


peppermint winter

by mothwrites



Series: tripartite [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Protective Tony Stark, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: Peter meets his First. It's not an easy time for anyone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know the new movies are pushing for Peter/MJ, and I love her and everything, but you'll prise Peter/Gwen from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> Also, we're back to present tense again. Not sure how long this will last. Thoughts? Questions? Requests? Drop me a message @ bunnybanner on tumblr or leave a comment here. Shout-out to my regular reviewers! Love you guys.
> 
> Title is an Owl City reference, because when I was 16 my iPod was full of Peter/Gwen playlists made up of Owl City songs.

Peter meets his First on a frosty winter morning in English class at 9am. It’s a little earlier than anyone expected.

The teacher introduces her as Gwen Stacy, says something about how her father has moved to a new police precinct, and watches in alarm as Peter stands up at the mention of her name and then immediately passes out.

“Smooth,” Harry says ten minutes later in the infirmary. “Really, I think she was impressed.”

“Ow,” Peter says in return, because all that’s in his brain is _ow. Ow_ and _oh my God, did I just meet my First?_

“Peter?” Harry says seriously, moving to put his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Breathe. Do you need your inhaler?”

Harry’s forgotten, Peter thinks, that he hasn’t had an asthma attack since the spider-bite. But he’s feeling like he could use it right now.

“This is a bad time,” a voice says decisively from the doorway. “I’ll come back.”

Peter looks up to see her again; Gwen Stacy, all of fifteen years old with wide blue eyes, knee-high socks and Peter’s backpack in her arms. She’s _perfect._ She’s also about ten years too early.

“Gwen also passed out,” Harry informs him cheerfully. “But she came round a lot quicker than you, since she didn’t have two other people in her head.”

_First, Second…_ “Is Tony here?” Peter asks. He is feeling in _desperate_ need of being mentored.

“He called,” Harry shrugged. “I’m gonna leave you two alone.”

“ _Do not leave us alone,_ ” Peter and Gwen both say, in perfect chorus. They look at each other and then look away, a furious blush rising on each of their faces.

“Well,” Harry says, after an excruciatingly-drawn-out pause. “I am _so_ excited to be a part of this. When do we start?”

*

Tony cheerfully informs Peter that evening that he is the youngest person in the last fifty years to be united with all three of his soulmates.

Peter is not so excited.

“It’s not supposed to happen this early,” he groans into a pillow. “I’m… scared.”

The three older men in the room look at each other and know that they cannot help. Bruce and Tony met in middle-age, and Rick, in his early twenties, still only has one soulmate.

“Weren’t you _born_ with a soulmate?” Rick asks eventually, in his clear, friendly voice. “This should be old hat for you, kiddo.”

Not quite, Peter thought, but almost, give or take a few days. Peter couldn’t remember ever not being able to talk to Harry in his head, but remembers very clearly the day they learned about soulmates in class, and both of them thought, ‘ _oh’._ Peter’s father had been _furious._ (It had taken them a long time to find out why.)

“It’s _different,_ ” Peter argued. “I’m not _in love_ with Harry.”

There was a beat. Bruce and Rick made similar ‘what can you do?’ gestures, and headed out. Tony shot them _daggers,_ and sat next to Peter on the sofa.

“Kid,” Tony said, a world-wearied expression on his face. “No-one’s saying you have to be in love with Gwen. You’re _fifteen._ You don’t have to be in love with _anyone._ ”

“But – “

“But nothing,” Tony said firmly. “Give yourself a break, Jesus. I am not having some lovesick teenager in my head just yet, you hear me? _Talk_ to the girl. Take her out for ice-cream, I don’t know. Bring her over for dinner. Just be normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” Peter pointed out. “If this was the 50’s we’d have been sent to opposite ends of the country. _It’s not supposed to happen this early._ ” He keeps repeating himself because it still hasn’t sunk in, this itch under his skin that’s pulling him towards uptown Manhattan, (why are all of his soulmates so _fancy?_ Peter’s just a stupid kid from Queens with a talent for getting punched, oh my God, she’s going to think he’s such an _idiot_ -)

“ _Breathe,_ ” Tony orders in his head. He starts rattling off other things for Peter to concentrate on, design specifications for the webshooters and all the stuff they’re going to work on that weekend until Peter’s calmer and breathing regularly. “Yikes, kid. You just can’t catch a break, can you? Just… sit there. I’m going to find something warm and non-caffeinated.”

“You’ve gotten so much better at this mentoring thing,” Peter calls back, warm and genuine. “But I’m going on patrol, by the way.”

Tony mutters something like “ _you’ll drink your goddamn tea first,_ ” searching through the cupboard for the herbal shit Pepper likes. “Don’t do anything stupid like climb through her window, okay?”

*

Peter never was very good at following orders.

“Hi,” he says. It’s pretty much impossible to sneak up on your First, but Gwen still looks surprised. Possibly because she was waiting for the doorbell to ring, and not for Spider-Man to come swinging on to her fire escape.

“Well,” Gwen says after a moment’s pause, where the only sounds that can be heard are the traffic of the city and the muffled sounds of Owl City coming out through Peter’s headphones. “As if this wasn’t weird enough.”

“I thought I should be straight with you from the get-go,” Peter explains. “As this is a thing that’s happening now. Uh, hi, by the way. I said that already. Sorry.”

“Hi,” Gwen says, opening the window enough so Peter can get through and then shutting the chill out immediately. “You’re cold.”

And that was how Peter found himself on a girl’s bed for the first time ever, swaddled in a fluffy pink blanket and sucking on some Junior Mints.

“Hogwarts house,” he says. They’ve been quizzing each other on their personalities; childhoods, likes and dislikes, dreams.

Gwen wrinkles her nose, and Peter hears her think, _you better get this right, Parker._

“Ravenclaw,” he says decisively, and she sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. That would have been a deal-breaker, wouldn’t it?”

“Definitely,” she agrees. “Gryffindor?”

Peter makes a _so-so_ gesture. “I test as Gryffindor around 70% of the time, Hufflepuff for the rest.”

“I can see that,” Gwen says. “Loyal. Brave.”

Peter squirms. “I don’t know about brave.”

“You just sneaked into the room of a police captain’s daughter in the middle of the night,” Gwen tells him matter-of-factly. “I’d say that’s brave. Or _very_ stupid.”

“I, uh,” Peter rubs the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see you. To see if you were okay. I kinda dropped the ball on us earlier.”

“You were experiencing some pretty intense emotions,” Gwen says, watching him carefully like he might pass out again. “Harry says you’re not always like that. Uh, we’ve known each-other for a while, actually: I intern at Oscorp. He was always joking that he was going to set us up on a date one day,” she told him, smiling. “I guess we beat him to it.”

“Are we dating?” Peter blurts out, and immediately feels stupid. Of course they’re dating. They’re _soulmates._

“Um.” Gwen’s clearly at a loss; she takes another Junior Mint and sucks on it for a while. “I just assumed,” she says after a while. “If we just went on dates like normal people, it wouldn’t feel so… weird.”

“Weird?” Peter asks softly.

“Not weird,” Gwen amends. “Just… heavy with the weight of expectation.”

Peter remembers Tony’s words from earlier that evening. _Be normal._ “Do you want to go for ice cream?” he asks.

“What, now? It’s midnight.”

Peter looks at the clock – _what?_ – and finds that it is, in fact, midnight. They’ve been talking for hours. Gwen comes to the same realisation and something warm and pleased washes them over this both. _We can do this,_ Peter thinks.

“I should go to bed,” Gwen sighs. “I didn’t get a lot of work done on my first day of school because _someone_ decided to introduce himself by fainting.”

“ _You fainted too,_ ” Peter argues, but he’s grinning. “Okay, okay. Ice-cream after school? There’s a place round the corner that does great mint-choc-chip.”

Gwen smiles up at him. She’s in pyjamas; light-blue flannel with a cream trim. Her hair is brushed and shiny. “That’s my favourite,” she says.

“I know,” Peter tells her. “You should probably get used to that.”

*

Peter Parker takes a lot of getting used to.

Gwen had a ten-step plan for integrating herself into a new school, a three-year plan for getting into college, and a _ten-year_ plan for soulmates and careers and everything else. Meeting her First at fifteen had _not_ been a factor in any of her meticulous planning.

In her neat, colour-coded bullet journal she ticks off ‘ _Finish calculus homework’_ and writes in a new bullet point for the weekend, ‘ _Meeting Tony Stark’._ It’s in blue, the colour she uses for ‘ _Ice-cream with Peter’_ and ‘ _Movie date’_ and ‘ _Stock up on first-aid supplies’._ Peter’s bullets are in the shape of little hearts. It’s nice. He called her his girlfriend yesterday.

They haven’t kissed yet. Mostly because every time they try there’s a school bell, or a spider-emergency, or someone giggling in the back of Peter’s head. Gwen wishes she could hurry up and meet her Second and Third so they at least be on a level footing.

Her phone buzzes.

_stop freaking out!!_ Peter’s texted. _i can feel it from here. they will <3 you._

Gwen types, and deletes, and types, and deletes again.

_What if they don’t,_ she sends. She has a right to be worried. Peter’s Third, by all accounts, is an extremely devoted and ridiculously powerful man. She is a fifteen year old girl who’s greatest asset is her grades and a box of Coptic markers.

_he’s not like that,_ Peter texts back immediately. _he’s a weird and sometimes grumpy teddy bear. if he’s mean bruce will just snap at him and make us tea._

In all fairness, Gwen thinks, Peter _did_ survive dinner with her police captain father, over-protective mother, and three brothers. Just about.

_Peppermint?_ She asks. If she concentrates really hard, she can taste it. Peter’s over there now.

_they won’t let me have caffeine_ L Peter sends, and links her to a study of spiders on different drugs.

_I’m not letting you have caffeine either,_ Gwen decides after watching a spider spin itself to exhaustion making a web. Peter can be a little childish _._ But she’s no longer fooled by him seeming so small and shy and awkward. There are days when he argues with mathletes and eats ice cream and ducks away from seniors, and nights where he brings himself up to his full height, and he’s serious, responsible and superhumanly strong. Nights when he smells like sweat and boy and the city, and anyone who underestimates Peter Parker, she thinks, needs a serious reality check.

“It’s a secret identity thing,” he confides in her over lunch one day. “I’m Brucie Wayne-ing it.”

Gwen writes ‘ _Look up Batman references’_ in her journal. Peter writes ‘ _start a bullet journal’_ on his hand.

They go to dinner at Stark Tower. Peter doesn’t know who’s more nervous; Gwen, or Tony. Harry declined to come, stating “it’ll be weird enough in your head without me there too.”

“We’re going ice-skating later,” Peter tells his mentor.

“Adorable,” Tony says, like they’ve done him a personal injustice, and sets about on a half-hour interrogation of Gwen that she deals with bravely while Peter groans into the sofa and yells things in appropriate places, until Bruce comes home, shoves Tony away and makes them all tea.

“She was nice,” Tony admits a few hours later, when Peter and Gwen have finally escaped. He’s allowed himself a finger of scotch - he had to watch them giggle over tying scarves around each-other’s necks, okay, he’s _earned_ this – and he’s leaning over Bruce as he works on the sofa, chin propped up on his shoulder.

“She was,” Bruce says, buried in electronic papers. “They were very cute together.”

Tony puts his glass down on the coffee table. “I _guess_ she didn’t seem crazy or mean or like she was going to expose him to the world – “ he stops suddenly. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Bruce asks, barely looking up. Tony’s rubbing his lip with one finger, experimentally.

“Spider-baby just had his first kiss,” he breathes out.

Bruce rolls his eyes, and growls, “leave them _alone,_ ” stopping Tony before he can reach for his mobile. “Tony. You do _not_ need to run a background check on a fifteen year old.”

“What if it was Rick?” Tony argues, straining to grab the phone that Bruce is holding out in front of him.

Bruce considers this, and relents.

“You do not needs to run an _extensive_ background check on a fifteen year old,” he amends, and passes him the phone.


End file.
